Titles Are For Stupid People
by DutchyAndYummers
Summary: The Newsies lead interesting lives, but only DutchyAndYummers have the talent to report on the sheer stupididness of it all. Warning: random, random, random, random, and a wee bit slashy. A series of extremely short ficlets.
1. Carlos

"Blink," Mush introduced. "I'd like you to meet my cousin, Carlos."

Blink smiled at the handsome teenage boy devilishly. "Heya, Carlos. _I'm _Blink!"

**_(Later)_**

After Mush's cousin had gone, Blink took a huge sip of milk

"You know," Mush said knowingly, "You were flirting my cousin."

Blink stared at him, shifted, and then spat the milk all over himself.


	2. Beat It!

Jack walked around the school, craning his neck in every classroom. He was looking for David, but he couldn't find him _anywhere._

On an impulse, Jack hurried to the gym. He could faintly hear eighties music playing in the background as he opened up the door and poked his head in. "Dave? You in there?"

No one answered him, and Jack was just about to close it, when a pair of abnormally large socks connected to freakishly hairless legs slid into his line of vision.

"Ooo!"

Slowly, Jack looked up and saw David. David was dancing in his wife beater and a pair of tidey-whities.

To Michael Jackson.

"Beat it!" David sang off key, dancing to the music. "Beat it!"

Jack stared at him for another second, and then quickly closed the door and ran.

Boy, the guys would love _this _story


	3. LumberJack

Skittery was drunk. Again. He'd managed to get sloshed on account of swiping a few bottles of whiskey from Kloppman's medicine cabinet, and not sharing with anyone else. He was now currently sitting on the steps of the Lodging House, laughing hysterically. He had not a care in the world.

Yes, Skittery was drunk all right.

Why the others had left the poor guy on the steps all by himself, Jack had no clue, but he was pretty sure it was because Skittery hadn't shared the liquor with the boys. Which left the last person to check in—Jack, to drag him inside.

"Heya, Cowboy!" Skittery greeted the other, miraculously not falling off the steps. "I'se been thinkin', youse should be a lumbajack!"

"A Lumbajack?" Jack asked, only half interested. "Why?"

"…. Because, it's in your name!! LumbaJACK, geddit? Lumba…JACK!!! Hahahahahaha!"

"Get in, Skitts," Jack groaned.

But his intoxicated friend had a point.


	4. What The?

_A/N: Wow! We got some great reviews! When we were writing these, we were thinking that no one would review, but look! we'll try to get as many as we can as soon as we can!---_

Mush walked into first hour, grinning broadly. Everyone was staring and sniggering at him, but he, being Mush and a natural born performer, ignored them.He walked up to Mrs. Ray's desk and handed her his excuse. She stared, open-mouthed, at him. Mush walked over to his seat and waved at Blink.

"What is _THAT_?" Blink whispered hoarsely. Spot and Swifty laughed openly in the background.

"What?" Mush said, his smile fading.

"THAT!" shouted Blink, pointing at Mush's face.

"Class, be quiet!" said snooty Mrs. Ray.

"What, do I have somethin' on my face?" Mush said worriedly.

Blink preformed his namesake, then shook his head and said, "Nah."

"I think Blinky here is too _chicken_ to tell ya," Spot piped in, refreshing the laughter between himself and Swifty.

"Shut up, you guys!" Specs whispered angrily, Mush stuck his tongue out at his bespectacled friend.

Mush looked at each of them in turn, "Seriously guys, what is it?"

Blink sighed and said, "What's _THAT_?" He poked Mush's upper lip.

"OH!" exclaimed Mush, his smile returning, He pointed at the piece of dried up chicken he had taped to his upper lip. "This?"

Blink nodded, unsure.

The other boy cackled madly. "It's my mustache!"


	5. Happy Birthday!

A/N: Yummers had posted this earlier, but then took it down. And now it's back, bwahahha.

"Happy birthday!" announced a random girl, walking into Tibby's. The door shut with a bang as she began handing out party hats and kazoos.

The Newsies, who had just finished singing the beloved song, "King Of New York," stared at her. Bumlets fell down from the lovely ceiling fan where he had been swinging and hit the floor, surprised.

The girl plopped a paper hat on Boot's head, then glanced around, beaming at all. "Happy Birthday!" she repeated.

"Wooo!" added Mush, slow on the uptake.

Racetrack smacked him. "It ain't any of our birthdays, moron."

"It isn't your birthday?" said the girl, confused.

"I don't think so," said David. The rest of the Newsies nodded.

"It isn't your birthday either?" The girl asked Denton. The reporter shook his head. "Or Tibby's birthday?"

"No," said a voice from the back.

"Are you sure?" The girl said desperately.

Jack nodded an affirmative.

"Dang it!" The girl said. Then she grabbed the party hats from the newsie's heads and walked out the door, muttering about getting new muses.


	6. Sleepover!

Mush, Blink, Jack, Skittery, and Spot were playing models.

"Okay! From the top!" ordered Jack, pressing play on the CD player.

"Mush," said Mush, striking a sexy pose and licking his lips.

"Blink…" Blink sexily slithered his tounge on the sexy rooftop of his sexy mouth.

"Jack," Jack flipped his hair. It was a rather Emo swoosh.

"Skittery," mumbled Skittery, not happy at all. He took a drag of his cigarette and sort of slouched.

"KAKAPOOPOOPEEPEESHIRE!" yelled Spot, throwing his arms in the air.


	7. My Taco!

_A/N: This came to us at lunch one day. We were hyper and BAM! Like that guy on Food Network. _

There are many facts in this world that we all know well but one fact forever burned in our heads is as follows: Pie Eater does _not_ like tacos.

It all started on his first day of high school…

It was that dreaded day that he learned that he was required to take Spanish. Now, for any other boy this isn't a problem, just another class to sleep in, but for Pie Eater, it's different. You see, ever since he was a little boy he's had voices in his head. Its never been a problem before because the voices, well they speak Spanish. He had no idea what they said except three words; enchilada, taco, and quesadilla.

As Pie made his way to room 107 he stalled as much as possible. But all too soon he came to the door, and was greeted by a spray-tanned Medda.

"Hola!" She said in a very fake Spanish accent. "Grab a taco from my Teachers Aide, and take a seat."

Pie looked over to the obese clown with a sombrero on, carrying a candy tray full of tacos. Immediately he began screaming and running around in circles. As to be expected, in his running led him straight into a wall. He fell flat on back and began whimpering.

Medda walked over and poked him with her foot, "You O.K. kid?" she asked.

He stuck out his thumb and stabbed his face several times with it before he actually got it in his mouth. He began rocking back and forth chanting "No comprendo, no comprendo, no comprendo…"

After awhile, Mush walked over and said, "Here, have a burrito."

Pie snapped out of it and jumped to his feet saying, "Okay!"

There are many facts, and two that stand out more than all the rest are these:

1. Pie Eater hates tacos

2. The boy loves him a burrito


	8. Anger Management

_A/N: This one was all Dutchy. She and her Brilliant taps head mind. Or... (and more likely) she was bored and... W-well lets not go into details, you'll never be the same. _

_And we for got earlier so here: blah, blah, blah, we don't own Newsies, blah, blah, witty pun, blah, blah..._

Spot walked down the hall with a new spring in his step. He walked over and shoved a kid out of the way to lean against the locker between Race and Mush.

"Just got back from my meeting with the councilor. He says I have anger problems. I need to have and 'outlet'."

"Really?" Race said uncaringly, looking for something in his locker.

Then Spot made his hand into a fist and punched Mush, hard.

"OW!" Mush yelled rubbing his shoulder where he'd been punched, "What was _that_ for!"

"The councilor told me I needed to let my anger out on a dummy." Spot said shrugging, "I'm off, see ya!"

Race slammed his locker shut and walked off laughing.

Mush stood in the middle of the empting hallway deep in thought. A moment later the bell rang, but Mush remained. A few minutes later he began laughing. Between laughs he exclaimed, "Oh, I get it!" After awhile of laughing he stopped and yelled, "HEY!" Then he noticed the empty hallway and ran to class.


	9. Everything I Know Is A Lie!

_A/N: I tell you this because i care, about you...r reviews... and ideas, and critisism. if you think we're retards, say it in CAPS LOCK!!!! But seriously, 9 chapters and no reviews!! Come ON people! Oh and pretend I wrote something about not owning Newsies._

It was a perfectly normal day at the Duane Street Lodging House. The pigeons were tweeting, the mice were squeaking about, and lots of well-built young men were getting dressed. _Lots _of young men. Men that were almost all good-looking and were very good singers, and dancers, and just about awesome in every way possible.

Yep. Pretty normal.

But all of this was disregarded as someone (probably Mush) shouted out from over all the gabble. "Hey, Blink, you ain't wearin' your eyepatch!"

All conversation stopped as everyone craned to get a good look at the blond newsboy. Cries were heard from the washroom. Kid Blink without his eyepatch? It wasn't possible!

"Woah! An _eye__!" _exclaimed Race. "Jeez, Ise always thought ya lost it in a freak accident or somethin'!"

"Really? I thought your Pop stabbed it out with a spoon!" said Specs.

"I thought you was mauled by angry boids at Central Park!" Pie Eater objected.

"You're all wrong!" Skittery announced. "He's secretly a pirate!"

….this last one was met with silence.

"Nope! " Blink grinned broadly, showing off his perfect straight white teeth. "It's a gimmick. Like Crutchy's Crutch."

"Crutchy ain't a gimp?" Jack swirled his head in amazement.

"No, he's secretly an evil genius bent on taking over the world and doin' thing to people's sauerkraut using his secret special Utility Crutch." Blink answered with a straight face.

"Damn! Foiled again!" screamed Crutchy, hopping on said Utility Crutch. He pulled it under him like a broom and flew out the window, cackling madly.


	10. Dinner For Two

_A/N: Dutchy wrote this one just to get ten stories (we think she has OCD) Yummers thinks its just hularious. but only YOU can decide! review and we'll give you a shout out. we're on our knees people! Well not really, we're in nice comfy chairs typing this. But in our minds... we own all Newseis, but we don't. My lawyer said so. Damn._

Race came back from the washroom, ready to enjoy his free meal. He beat Kloppman at poker yesterday and won a free meal from Tibby's.

He walked over to his table and saw Snitch sitting at his table. When he reached the table he sat down and picked up his fork.

He looked down to see his plate licked clean. He looked up at Snitch, his eyes wide, "What the hell'd you do with my food!"

"I ate it." Snitch said plainly.

"WHAT!!!" Race said, rising from his seat, and forming a fist.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up Pony Boy, I saved your _life_!" Snitch said defensively, belching loudly.

"How d'ya figure that?" Race said, his voice shaking.

"That food could've been_ poisoned_," He said dramatically, "I took the risk," I slammed his fist on his chest. Then rubbing the spot he'd hit, he finished, "And ate the food, for your safety."

Race's face was red, he was shaking, and he whispered in a deadly tone, "You've got three seconds, then I'm gunna kick the living shit outta ya."

And in two minutes (who knew Snitch could run so fast) Race did just as he promised


	11. Poker Buddies!

_A/N: Alright, begging obviously doesn't work. Lets try guilting them. How many of you write stories? I hope some of you. Now, out of those who do, who strives for reviews? A lot, right? Well, do us a favor and review, we really do love it, even if you are telling us to lay off the crack (like that'll ever happen). Oh! Newsies belongs to Disney. Or a fourty year old balding man who lives in his mother basement and has a thing for westerns and musicals. We're looking into it._

The Newsies were playing poker and Race wasin touble. He'd lost three games but had the hand to win the next one. Just as he was about to lay his hand on the table, winning the game, there was a loud creak from the ceiling.

Everyone looked up and then, strangely enough, a large hole was cut in the ceiling.

"What the…?" Race began, but was interrupted. Jumping through the hole was Spot, clutching his hat and cane.

He landed on the table, scattering the cards and chips onto the floor. He beamed at them all and said loudly, snapping his suspenders, "Hey guys! I've got great clothes!" He smiled one last time and skipped merrily out of the room.

Race looked at the floor, the cards, his winning hand, all in shambles on the floor. Then he glanced out the door which Spot had ran through.

"Did I still win?" He asked the group at large. They all answered by shaking their heads. "Dammit!" He mumbled and he stalked out the door.


	12. Guy Love

_A/N: This story is all Yummers. It needs a slight intro concerning the begining's horrible typing. The first part of this particular FanFiction ( Hehe, that sounds like a super hero- Do Do Doooooo, It's FanFiction!!!- maybe not) was written by a fangirl, and she's no secretary. So it's meant to look like a monkey typed it, yes. Oh, and Newsies is ours! Woooooo! We hold the paper that proves Disney gave us all rights to _Newsies _we kid you not. Well, yes we do. But in our heads, we do own it, and the Newsies are our sex pawns. Darn reality._

"moosh i;m gay" blink stated. "im gayer for realz"

"omg!" said Moosh. "i am too!

"kewl! let's make out & have man-love!"

"okay!"

-snog-snog-snog-

"Hold on!" Someone from the sidelines of the fic shouted. "You can't DO that!"

"Cut!" shouted the Fan-Fic writer, clutching her movie sticks. The two characters of the story, Blink and Mush, gladly stopped their antics.

"You can't do that!" The incredibly girly boy protested. "It's terrible! Mush and Blink would NEVER have oral sex in the middle of their living room!That's disgusting!"

"It's HAWT!" the fangirl protested.

"It's out of character!" Spot said. He picked up the skirts of his Medda- like dress and flounced away, his curls bouncing in the wind. "I'll be in my trailer!"

"Hypocrite," said the Fangirl, rolling her eyes.


	13. Scroll Down

_A/N: We've talked about it and we decided we don't care about your reviews. We kid you not. Nah, we decided we have waaaay to much fun just writing these stories that we don't give a flying pig if you review or not. So... there. This story is special. You must scroll down to the bottom. You'll see why when you get there. Oh, and Newsies doesn't belong to us, but we still steal their characters and ideas on an irregular basis. _

One day, our very favorite Newsies characters, Blink and Skittery, were casually walking down the street, being innocent and selling their papes like the good little Newsies they are.

Just then, the God of Hotness and Smexy Abs, Mush, ran up to them, panting excitedly. "H-hey, you guys!" Mush beamed.

"Hi..." said Blink offhandedly. He smiled at a passing lady, who stopped dead in her tracks and bought a paper

"What's up?" Skittery inquired. _He_ smiled at a girl, who promptly squeaked and ran away.

"Wouldn't it be hilarious if a story cut out right in he middle of a sen--"

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"Woah..." breathed Blink.


	14. Story Time

_A/N: I think you all should have a good laugh at this: When we asked you not to review, you all managed to double our review numbers. Weird, right? Well this one should match your weirdness. We're so proud of your weird-osity! We don't own Newsies, though we're this close to owning a copy of Blood Drips On Newsies Square! It will sustain our burning Newseies passion! I think this authors note is longer than the actual story... cool!_

"The End," David said, closing the picture book and smiling at his fellow Newsies.

"That was such a good story!" Snitch said excitedly

"Yeah, I Love happy endings," Mush added.

"Whatever," Race said uncaringly, ripping the book from David's grasp and flipping through the pages.

"What a shame everyone died," Spot said from his perch on the top bunk.

"Whaddya mean? No one died," David said, looking genuinely confused

"Really?" Spot questioned, pulling out his slingshot. He took aim and hit the book, in Races arms, multiple times. When he was done, the people in the pictures were mutilated. "They all look pretty dead to me," He finished, jumping off the bed and walking out of the lodging house.


	15. Gobble, Gobble

_A/N: There is no authors note for this story._

It was a rainy-looking day and Boots was going through his usual paper route, when he saw a very strange sight. Les was hanging up large balls of what looked like various seeds. Yes, very strange indeed.

Boots strayed over to his pal and said, "Les, whatcha doin'?"

"Puttin' up boid feedas," Les replied nonchalantly.

Boots raised one eyebrow, "Why…?"

"Well, ya see, Davey said that turkeys can drown if it rains and they're looking up."

"So you hung up boid feeders."

"Yeah, so the turkeys'll come and try ta eat the food, but it's too high, and when the rain comes, I'll see if they'll drown!"

"Les,"

"Uh-huh?" Les replied, resuming his work with the bird feeders.

"There aren't any turkeys in New York," Boots said bluntly.

"Oh," Les sighed, walking away sadly.


	16. Writers Block

Two random girls were randomly sitting at a random corner in a random isolated African town, usind a very random laptop and wearing random hats (the first was wearing a newsies hat, adn the second was wearing a furry purple top hat). A random bald poodle was barking at the said random hat. All this, however, is irrelevant.

The pair, best known by their fans as Dutchy and Yummers, were anxiously debating about what hilarious story to write next.

Yummers was on the verge of tears. SHe stared blankly at a random purple elephant as it flew by on a random yellow polka-dotted paper airplane. This elepant was wearing linderhosen.

"Everything's so boring here," Yummers sighed, "_Nothing _funny and random ever happens in Africa."

"Seriously, replied Dutchy, "This was a very bad place to pick for our setting for a randomly funny story."

The elephant did a random flip in midair and was struck by random lightning.

_A/N: guess what our favorite word of the day is... You guessed it--- corndogs!_

"Well, _**I **_wanna write and angsty story," Yummer pouted, "Angst, Dutchy, _Angst!"_

"Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!" Dutchy whined, throwing invisible rocks at the nothingness.

"You used too many vowels," Yummers noted randomly, "Because," she abruptly changed the subject hastily, "Angst is teh haut!"

"True," Dutchy remarked, "Okay!"

Yummers smiled as Dutchy yanked off her backpack, and opened it. As Dutchy rummaged through her bag, Yummers smiled faded. "What should we wrie about?"

Dutchy shrugged, pulling out their sacred 'Holy Grail' (A.K.A- the Newsies DVD). "We'll ask the muses."

"SPEAK TO US MUSES! SPEAK TO US!!!" She screamed randomly, hitting her head with the D.V.D., it looked rather painful.

Nothing happened, although Dutchy's left elbow was developing a angry looking bruise

_A/N: If Jack can get a black eye by getting hit on the chin, thin we can hit our heads and get bruises on our left elbows. Don't argue, we're the authors!!!!!!!! (Yummers says Hi!)_

"This isn't working," Dutchy remarked, examining her elbow.

"Darn. Wanna write a story about how we wanted to write an angst story, but failed miserably?" Yummers said hopefully.

"No, thats retarted!" Dutchy said, standing up and walking away.

Yummers sighed defeatedly.

(No Elephants were harmed in the making of this Fanfic, although there was that incident between a squirrel, a jelly doughnut and a blue bean-bag... but)

_A/N:Yes, we put the authors note in various spots (spot ::squee::) and at the end. It suited the story. Now I mean this, do you own any planes that can get us out of Africa... we're kinda stuck here and our computer's almost out of power. Help..._


	17. Attack of the Killer Tomatoes

_A/N: There comes a time in every writers life where they realize they just need to let a story go, it's run it's course and has to move on. This is not one of those times. I just wanted to scare you, here's another story._

Oscar had just gotten his ass kicked by Jack again, and boy, was he mad.

Steam was practically coming out of his ears as Oscar massaged his throbbing body parts.

(Bruises, people! Jeez…perverts)

Delancy #1 watched The Cowboy get congratulated by his entire fellow Newsies for the fight, wishing an everlasting plague upon Jack, his family, his friends, and _all _of his uncle's cousin's nephews mothers' former roommates. _All _of them.

Suddenly, Oscar's brother Morris jumped up from behind a lamppost.

"Morris, what're ya doing here?" asked Oscar curiously

"Shhh," Morris held a finger to his lips. "I'm extracting my revenge."

Wondering how on Earth Morris managed to learn a word such as extract, Oscar watched his brother in awe and said no more.

Morris snuck along the side of the street, and then, looking both ways, ran across to Jack and his buddies. The Delancy's enemy blinked at him in confusion as Morris stopped in his tracks and reached inside his coat, drawing out a large tomato.

"Huh?" Jack blinked.

"Hi-ya!" screamed Morris. He threw the large tomato at Jack's face, splattering the Cowboy instantly. The fruit then began to eat Jack, devouring him in less than two seconds.

Only a black Cowboy hat and half a red bandana remained.

Oscar stared at the other Newsies, who were panicking over Jack's odd fate.

"What the hell was that?" He asked his brother.

Morris smiled brightly.

"That was death by tomatoes!" He exclaimed


	18. Another Tale Pertaining to Fruit

_A/N: Weird how here we are again, writing about fruit. Yes. I don't even like tomatoes. But bananas are good. So... we wrote this. A dedications to all teh GOOD fruits. Oh, we don't own Newsies but... well... I don't know what else so let's just leave it there._

One day, Boots swiped an orange from the vendor's outdoor cart.

He was starving, and also very, very, very concerned about getting caught, so he quickly stuck the piece of fruit into anyone could notice.

Boots waited until sometime later to pull out his breakfast/morning/afternoon snack as he was selling his papers.

He was looking forward to his orange, until Boots looked down and realized it was a banana.

"Huh?" The Newsboy stared down at the piece of bananular fruit. "I'se thought I got an orange!"

"Hah! Fooled you!" cried the banana, biting Boots on the nose and running away.


	19. Dance of the Ferret and Kiwi Bird

_A/N: This story is proof that we listen to you! O.K... So, today (yes, today) we got a review from a certian Mad 'atters asking us to write a story about a ferret and a kiwi bird. Well, this is how we interpreted it. Maybe you all could give us more idead. Or not, we already have too many buzzing around in our heads. This one's for you Mad 'atters!_

"'Oh, hello Mr. Ferret!'

"'Hi Kiwi bird!"

"'Lets go to your house and _play_!'

"'OKAY!'"

"Davey? What are you doing?" Les asked concerned.

David promptly proceeded to hide his ferret and kiwi bird puppets behind his back. "Whaddya mean?"

"You were… with the… and then…" Les stuttered.

"_What _did you see." David said, trying to sound mysterious and innocent, and failing miserably.

"Nothing, I didn't see you playing with your dolls… again."

"Good." David replied. Les turned heel and ran to his room. After a moment of running around aimlessly he realized: he shared a room with David.


	20. Crack In The Crutch

_!teevhcS .nac I sey, seY .drawkcab eton srohtua siht etirw nac I fi rednow I –N/A_

_If you can read that… consider yourself talented. We don't own Newsies, but we've hired a guy. We can't tell you more or we'd have to kill you. This authors note will __**not**__ self-destruct in 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…_

Race was in rehab for playing too much poker.

At first, he was nearly driven to insanity by the lack of betting. He longed for the stench of cigars, the beautiful cards…and of course, the thrill of winning money. He could do none of this, however, while in the residency of Pine Tree Rehab

But Race was a very clever boy, and soon, he found out how to gamble and play poker in secret.

All the previously mentioned taken into account, Race was still having a rough time. He wasn't the only gambling addict in rehab, and they were all much better hiding it than he.

Excluding all the losers who actually _wanted _to get better (idiots!) Race was terrible at rehab. In fact, the only person in the whole place he could beat was Crutchy, who was in for crack addiction.

Before he knew it, Race was out of poker chips. O-U-T out. And he was going into relapse. He knew he needed to gamble or risk his sanity.

Then one day, he got the most glorious news:

_The Rehab-Goers would be allowed to go to Wal-Mart._

Race knew he had horrible memory, so he grabbed a pen from a nearby table and wrote on his hand, while saying out loud, "Note to self: Buy more chips."

It was then that he realized that a rehab officer was staring at him.

Thinking fast, and on a gambling deprived brain; Race covered up his slip of the tongue by saying loudly, "Buy more CHOCOLATE chips. Chocolate chips, for cookies and what not. You know, chocolate chippity goodness… yeah."

The officer looked at him strangely and walked away slowly, glancing back rather too often.


	21. Well, ExCUSE Me!

_A/N- Australia is __**not**__ and island. (And we do __**not**__ own Newsies)_

One day Racetrack was jauntily walking (skipping down the street, hoofing and playing harmonica and gambling on horses all at the same time. He was on his way to Sheepshead Bay, and it was a beautiful day, and the Authors were relatively making him act like a normal person. All was well, and Race was happy.

As he turned a corner, Race accidentally collided with someone, knocking both of them to the ground.

"Oh, excuse me, Ma-damn," said Race, holding up a hand to pull the skirted person up.

"I'm not a Ma-damn, idiot!" said Spot, thwapping Race on the head with his handbag and walking away, his nose held high in the air.


	22. Read Authors Note

_A/N- This story is special. Due to limitations we must put the title here. It glimmers with the beauty of... Beauty-ness... Pretend I said nothing._

The Extremly Long Title Having Nothing To Do With The Story But One That We're Pretty Sure Is Actually Longer Than The Story Itself, But All The Same...

It was a very large chimney. And that was all Mush had to say on the matter.

--fin--


	23. Vampires: Dead or Alive?

_A/N: Well, this authors note officially sucks._

"Davey, what's that?" Jack asked, pointing to the shiny object that had fallen from his friend's pocket.

"That," David started matter-of-factly, "Is my lucky silver spork."

Jack made a face ad said, "Your_ what?_"

"My lucky silver spork. It fends off vampires, and if they get to close, the spork'll kill 'em."

"Ah…" Jack said, not understanding at all.

David smiled and shoved the spork in his back pocket, only to exclaim "Ouch!" a few moments later when his acclaimed 'lucky' silver spork stabbed him in his left buttock.


	24. Secrets Best Kept Secret

_A/N: A/N: A/N: A/N: A/N: A/N: A/N:_

_Darn. The Authors Note maker is broken._

One day the Newsies scrounged up enough money to go see an opera at a big, classy theater. We're talking _classy, _people.

So obviously there were strippers involved.

The opera entitled was _Romeo and Juliet. _Yes, that's right. Romeo and Juliet. That marvelous tale full of hope and laughter, joy, and dreams! The story of true love everlasting, and beauty, suicide, and balconies! Men in tights, women in creepy silver shoes, thirteen-year olds getting married! _That _one!

Ahem. Right. The story.

The Newsies sat down in their chairs in unison, bouncing on the plush leather seats. They didn't have any idea about what the opera was about.

"I'se don't have any idea about what the opera's about," said Dutchy, repeating the narrative. "Specs, help!"

Specs sighed. "It's about these two kids about Boot's age who fall in love."

"Oh." Dutchy dwelled on this for a moment. "What happens at the end?"

"They die," said Specs.

"Oh." Dutchy looked sad for a moment. Then he brightened. "We should probably tell them that, shouldn't we?"

"Um..." said Specs uncertainly.

Dutchy ran up to the stage in the middle of the beginning of the first scene, and tapped Romeo on the shoulder. "You'd better run, you're gonna die!"


	25. This is a Noun

A/N: Thanks to 'Cannibal: the Musical' for unknowingly letting us steal their song, and we beg of you to review and tell us what your story was! We want to laugh with you!

**Yes, ladies and gents, now **_**you**_** can make your very own DutchyAndYummers story!  
**

**It's a mad lib! Here's what you all need copied onto a word document or whatever is available.  
**

adjective  
adjective  
group of people  
adverb  
verb ending in 'ing'  
plural noun  
noun  
noun  
plural noun  
verb  
feeling  
verb  
group of people  
past tense verb  
pronoun  
verb  
noun  
possessive cuss word ending in 'er'  
food  
eye function  
verb ending in 'ing'  
body part  
planet  
color  
plural  
noun  
body part  
adjective  
verb  
punctuation mark  
group of people  
verb  
noun  
verb  
noun  
verb  
name  
same verb  
name  
verb  
adjective  
same verb  
adjective  
noun  
dance style  
past tense verb  
body part  
adverb  
verb ending in 'ing'  
plural noun  
adjective  
adjective  
adjective  
verb  
noun  
same verb  
number  
pronoun  
famous brothers  
month  
food  
adverb  
past tense verb  
verb  
noun  
past tense verb  
past tense verb  
body part  
  
It was a(n) adjective, adjective day, and all the group of people were adverb verb ending in 'ing' their plural noun.

"Holy noun!" Said the famous Newsie with a(n) noun, "The plural noun suck today!"

"I don't know how I'm going to verb today," said Racetrack.

"Don't be feeling," Mush exclaimed, "I know what we can do to verb ourselves up!"

The group of people past tense verb at pronoun.

"We can verb a snow-noun!

"That possessive cuss word ending in 'er' gone completely food!" Eye function stated, verb ending in 'ing' his hand on his bodypart.

But it was too late.

"Sometime, the planet is color," Mush started, "And plural noun run from your body part. And maybe we'll all get really adjective. And maybe we'll all verb.

"Punctuation mark(3)" was all that any of the group of people could say.

Mush started singing "So... let's verb a snow-noun we can make him our best noun! We can verb him name, or we can same verb him name!

"We can verb him adjective, or we can same verb him not so adjective! Snow-noun!!!

Than Mush started to dance style. He past tense verb out his body part adverb, verb ending in 'ing' himself lots of plural noun from passersby.

"He'll have an adjective face, an adjective smile, an adjective point of view. If you build me a snow-noun, then I'll same verb number for pronoun!

"Mush," said the famous brothers, "there _is_ no snow in month!"

"Oh," said the food-colored boy, adverb, then he past tense verb.

"Sooo... let's verb a dirt-noun!"

Everyone past tense verb and past tense verb their body part.


	26. Drastic Measures

_A/N: Just how long can Pinocchio's nose grow?_

**If the strike didn't work, there was a Plan B…**

A large gang of striking Newsies stood in Joseph Pulitzer's office. On his desk stood Jack Kelly, who was staring at the crowd with a pleased look on his face.

The other boys, from all over New York, were staring the old man down with matching evil smiles. Yelling flooded the room, until Jack called all attention to himself.

He turned to face Pulitzer, turning slowly with an evil look on his face for dramatic affect. He stared at Pulitzer for a moment before breaking the silence with a loud yell, "Poke him 'til he dies!"

The Newsies (evil little paper boys that they were) obeyed his command without second thought.

Pulitzer never had a chance.


	27. When Zombies Attack

Mush and Blink were totally wasted.

They were sitting alone in the lodging house, finishing off the last of their booze. As Blink downed each glass, he felt a stirring within him that was equal to a fire of a thousand suns. It was surely a strange urge, and Blink was positive Mush felt the same way.

When they ran out of liquor, Blink looked at Mush through drunken eyes. After a moment, he whispered, "I'm ready when you are."

Mush only nodded.

Blink's hand slid slowly into his pocket. It fumbled around for a few moments, and then pulled out …

...his spare eye patch!

Mush smiled as Blink covered his _other_ eye. He helped Blink stand, then the real fun began.

Blink ran around crazily, tripping and stumbling as he walked through the lodging house. His arms were held out like a zombie as he ran into everything in his path, and he very nearly fell down the stairs once or twice

Mush clapped his hands and bounced up and down while sitting on the bed. Every time Blink ran into something, Mush would giggle girlishly. It was quite entertaining, and kept them occupied for hours.

All in all it was a good night, though Blink was pretty banged up after the affair.

_A/N: Dirty minded people, this one is for you, you keep this world from getting too 'G' rated!_


	28. I Can't Believe It's Chapter 28!

_A/N: Have you ever been in an obnoxiously long bathroom line and you just really gotta go... we have the cure!!! Not really, but we do have a funny story. The irony of it all is that it was Dutchy that wrote this. _

**A/N II: the Dutchy mentioned in the story is the original Dutchy, you know, blonde hair, glasses, odd facial expressions. Yeah, him.**

Dutchy had to go. Badly.

He was standing in line for the bathroom, doing the infamous 'potty-dance'. Now, he really regretted drinking that liter of lemonade. He knew how fast sugary drinks went through his system.

He stood in an exceedingly long line during half time at a basketball game. _Why_ did everyone have to go _now_?

The blonde boy stood on his tippy-toes to see how much longer he had to wait. There were at least ten people in front of him. He groaned and proceeded with his dance, crossing and uncrossing his legs like… two impatient teenagers desperate to come up with a funny simile

He had no idea how long he stood there until Bumlets found him. The ceiling fan swinging Newsies approached his urine filled friend and said, "Dutchy, what the hell are you doing?"

"I gotta pee!" Dutchy whispered frantically.

Bumlets stifled a laugh and after a moment he said, "You do realize this is the line for the girls' bathroom, right?"

"Oh," Dutchy said dumbly, before making a mad dash to the men's bathroom.


	29. Pass the Towel!

_A/N: EVERYBODY, I HAVE LIFE-CHANGING NEWS! Yummers wrote this all by herself ::Golf Claps for Yummers:: Now onto the important topics... I have cool socks on! …okay, you caught me, not really. Onto the story!_

David was skipping down the street, whistling cheerfully, when suddenly he came upon a familiar sight on one of the street corners. It was Skittery.

"Hi, Skittery!" said the Walkin' Mouth. He grinned broadly, displaying his what-he-thought-was-friendly-but-really-wasn't-smile. "How is it rolling?"

Skittery rolled his eyes, annoyed at the "wanna-be Newsie talk", and grabbed David by the front of his shirt. "Say that again, David, and I'll soak ya."

David nervously squirmed. "Okay, Skittery---I mean, uh, yes sir!"

But the pink-shirted boy wasn't finished. "Do you know what happens when I soak people?"

"…They, uh, beg for mercy?" asked Dave, now sweating. Skittery shook his head.

"They ask for towels!" He exclaimed.

_A/N: And that, ladies and gents, was what we like to call a punch line_


	30. Wash Your Hands Before Dinner

_A/N: Sorry for taking so long to update! With school, and tests, and Yummers starting track, and Dutchy protesting organized sports, we've had no ideas to write. But, to make up for all that, we included a funny simile to apologize. Huzzah!_

The Newsies were playin' poker with Spot in Brooklyn. David was being his usual self, cheering on Jack in a very gay fashion.

"…GOOOOOO JACK!" Dave exclaimes, finishing his cheer. He opened his mouth to start another cheer, when all of a sudden panic flooded his face. He dropped his pom-poms, as his hands fell lamely at his side, much like a lame duck, but not the metaphorical lame duck, no, a lame duck as in a duck that stepped on a land mine. Or something.

Hmmm…

Anyhoo…

After the narrators finished their exceedingly long simile, Jack asked David, "Davey, what's wrong?"

It took a moment for David to realize Jack was talking to him, but when he did, he replied in a small, weak voice, "I think I left the water running at home. We'll NEVER be able to afford the bill." ---Fin

_A/N 2.0: If any of you happen to have a job as a waitress, for the love of god, the next time you serve someone thier food, say, "You got served!"... _

_...Please._


	31. Fruity M&M's

_A/N: Alright, we got a lot of 'splaining to do. See, Dutchy had to go to the hospital for a few days, Yummers is in track, and all our ideas got lost in our forgetful heads. We came up with this about a week, and we have another story in mind. _

_This story is based on Yummers reaction to her newest favorite candy._

Mush ran his finger along the vending machine's glass front. He muttered the names of the various snack foods as his finger passed over him.

"Milky way… nah. Oreo 100 Calorie Pack, hmmmm… nope, Salt and Vinegar Chips, yuck! Chocolate Skittles..." Mush's eyes widened dramatically. He took a step back from the machine, a look of utter disbelief apparent on his face.

After a moment of dead silence, Mush yelled nearly as loud as he could, "_OH. MY. GOD_. Chocolate Skittles! That's insane! That's... Chocolate Skittles!" He waved his hands wildly and pointed at the machine. "I can't believe it! They're skittles, but they're chocolate! That's crazy! It's like... Skittles... that are _CHOCOLATE_ flavored!! "

Mush turned around and ran to his group of friends, blissfully ignorant of the many stares coming from the surrounding crowd.

When he reached his laughing amigos, (Spanish, si?) Mush exclaimed loudly, "Guys, there are _CHOCOLATE SKITTLES_! "

Race managed to stop laughing long enough to say, "We heard. So did everyone else, for that matter." He signaled to the staring masses, all of whom were near tears due to laughing so hard.

Mush blushed a deep red and said, "Oh," softly, before running back to the vending machine, putting in his 75 cents, pushing 'C-7' and pulling out a bag of Chocolate Skittles. He quickly hugged the machine before running back to his friends to brag about the chocolaty-chewy goodness.

What a shame that that was the day the boy discovered he was allergic to artificial flavoring, particularly those in chocolate skittles.

Poor Mushy.

_A/N 2.0: Wish Dutchy luck, she has surgery tomorrow (4-2-08)!_


	32. Bob is Not Original Enough!

_A/N: Dutchy died. Just kidding, nah, she's alive, but in pain. Thanks to SilverRain1.3 and Kutestar94 for being the only people to review and care about Dutchy's well being. We came up with the song in this story in band when Yummers was writing with an awesome pencil, and Dutchy gave it the most random name she could think of. Enjoy!_

Blink, Mush, and Snitch all walked into Tibby's, smiles plastered upon their faces. In Snitch's outstretched hand held an overly-large, silvery, sparkly pencil.

Jack raised an eyebrow at the trio and asked timidly, "Uh, what's that?" he pointed at the pencil.

Blink smiled. You know, that really, really,_ really, _huge smile where you can see all thirty-two of his pearly whites.

"Cowboy, Cowboy, Cowboy… ain't it obvious? This is Urkenschmeal, the German Pencil."

Jack stared.

"We'll explain it to you," Mush responded to Jack's blank face, "In _song_!"

The three took deep breaths and started:

"Urkenschmeal the German Pencil;

Urkenschmeal the German Pencil;

Urkenschmeal the German Pencil"

Mush took on a solo, "Not like a regular pencil"

Blink pushed him out of the way, desperate for attention in the limelight. "Oh, no!!"

"Iiiiiiiiit's German!" Snitch finished.

"And that's why we sing…" They sang, before repeating the song again. And again, and again, and again, and again…

Jack grabbed a napkin, hid his face behind it, and slowly edged away. The pencil-loving trio didn't even notice.


	33. A Question For The Ages

_A/N: OMG! I forgot to write an authors note! Now 18 people will never read this authors note! :sigh: 18 is a tiny number. :silence:_

Skittery and Snitch were leaning against a tree in central park, desperately attempting to make conversation inside the awkward silence.

It wasn't working.

Snitch fidgeted, showing how uncomfortable he was with the situation, and said: "Do you ever get the feelin' someone is watching ya?"

Skittery blinked slowly.

Snitch pressed on, "You ever feel like you're being watched, (and not just that), but that somewhere, in a far off place, someone's writin' about you?"

Skittery remained unmoving.

"It seems to me," said Snitch, "That there are tons of people, but two girls in particular pop out at ya. Seems like…seems like…they call themselves Dutchy and Yummers and are freakishly obsessed with us. They write random stories about us that make no sense, but at the same time are slightly humorous. The stories don't all even take place in 1899, but sometimes in 2008! They post these random stories on a website called fanfiction .net not .com, because .com is for losers. Lately they've been slacking off due to school activities, but track season is over soon, so they have high hopes. And they are really named..."

While Snitch caught his breath, Skittery said simply, "No."

Snitch rocked back and forth on his feet, and said in a high-pitched, breathless voice, "Me neither."

And the silence was presumed.


	34. It's Impolite to Stare

_A/N: Sorry we havent updated in forever, we just hope that you haven't given up on us. But schools out and we're going to get a class out of the way at summer school, so we hope that we can come up with stories then. _

Dutchy stared at the boy.

The boy looked uncannily like Dutchy. That is, ignoring the fact that the boy was notably shorter. And that he was much… pudgier.

But who gives a hoot that he looked as though someone had taken Dutchy himself and stretched him like taffy?

Well, in all honesty, most people would care, but leave it to Dutchy to be too hyped up on carnival food to think rationally.

Slowly, he neared the boy. Just as he was about to confront the boy about their (questionable) resemblance, a yell from Specs distracted him.

"Dutchy! Will you hurry up in the in House of Mirrors already?! I wanna see the clowns before we leave!"

_A/N: For those who are like Yummers and didn't get it at first, Dutchy is looking at his reflection in one of the House of Mirrors' mirrors._


	35. Never Give Itey Cheese

_A/N: We've been meaning to post this for forever! Also, we are not liable to any injuries recieved while reading this story._

Boots had just happily settled down in the cafeteria to eat his peanut butter and jelly sandwich when he suddenly realized he had no milk.

So, as any normal person would do, he got up to get some.

As he made his way to the crowded lunch line—accompanied by the over dramatic music known as the "Thriller"—Boots suddenly heard a strange voice coming out of his jeans pocket.

This voice (which was very squeaky) said:

"Gimme some cheese, mofo!"

He dropped his milk in surprise, and looked around crazily, earning himself very strange stares.

Nothing happened.

After he decided it was safe, (and his neck was severely hurt) he got down on his hands and knees to locate his beloved dairy product.

The voice spoke again.

"Hey! You ain't getting me my CHEESE! If you ain't gettin' me my cheese, mofo--I'm gonna whoop your ass up. Slap mah fro!"

Boots, whose neck hurt too much to look around again, whispered hoarsely, "Have the voices come for me?"

"NO, HOMEBOY!" answered the voice. "I JUST WANT MY CHEESE!"

Boots sighed, "They don't serve cheese here anymore, not since Itey choked on it and threatened to sue."

"But...but...but... whispered the voice. _"I only want some cheese."_

Boots suddenly felt a strange movement in his jeans. He glanced down in surprise...and lo and behold! He saw a miniature garden gnome crawling out.

"HOMYGOD!" He exclaimed, scaring one of the "lunch ladies", who "just so happened" to be carrying a tray full of 'peas'. She spilt the 'peas' all over "Snitch", who "just so happened" to be in lunch line.

(A/N: Yummers likes excessive punctuation)

By this time the gnome had managed to crawl out of Boots' pocket and stood up on two little feet. The gnome looked very angry, and as Boots stared at it, he couldn't help but feel very scared.

"YOU!" The gnome cried out, "GIMME SOME CHEESE!"

Boots was afraid, very afraid.

_A/N: Based on a true story._


	36. Swifty Has A Secret

_A/N: At this very moment, as I write this autors note, I notice something important... Yummers is taking pictures of her feet. Now, with that thought, I leave you to read our story. :waves:_

The newsies were gathered around a small rocking chair, sitting crosslegged on the floor, but far from having contented, cute little faces, they were scowling with the rage of a thousand Republicans at an anti-George Bush rally. Even Dutchy's, a face normally blank of expression, wore something that could have been related to annoyance.

Sitting in the middle of said rocking chair was an exactly five-foot-four and a half girl with curly blonde hair named Yummers. _Her _face was something that resembled fear.

Her "friend", or "co-worker", or "person-that-she-liked-to-argue-with-on-a-daily-basis" was floating dreamily above her, fluttering around on tiny, sparkly pink fairy wings, for some unknown reason. She (or, in some circles, "Dutchy") also looked sort of afraid.

For very good reason.

"_You guys are runnin' out of ideas!" _Jack shouted in David's ear, making Dave cringe and move his sock covered foot to the side. "_We haven't been updated in weeks!"_

"Yeah, well," said Yummers weakly. "We've been busy, going to camps and things--"

"Face it," Jack cut her off. He stood up, poking a finger in her face. Yummers resisted an urge to bite it off. "You've got no inspiration. No...no..._spark."_

"Uh, actually..." said Dutchy, fluttering worriedly above. "We do..."

"_But that's okay!" _Jack sceamed. "_Because we have decided to give ya one! A brilliant, wonderful, idea!"_

Dutchy and Yummers stared at him. So did most of the newsies, having not been informed of this brilliant, wonderful, idea until this moment.

"We..." Here, Jack struck a dramtic pose. "Will put on a play!!"

"But not just any play!" Jack added, adding to the confused-ness. "No! We, the newsies, shall put on RENT! in hopes your muses will come back! And come back they shall, for RENT! never fails!"

Yummers and Dutchy stared at each other, then back at Jack. Identical evil grins suddenly popped up on their faces.

"I have another idea," Dutchy rubbed her hands together. "RENT's old school, you guys. Why don't you try for something different?"

"Like..." said Jack.

Yummers shrugged. "Well, I've always heard the play _Naked Boys Singing_ was good for muses."

All of the newsies suddenly felt very, very, very afraid.


	37. Dude! 2: Return of the Utility Crutch

_A/N: This is a celebration fic for our Thirty-Seventh chapter! Yay for us! :Throws confetti: We will be coming up with more soon, or at least we have high hopes. _

_Enjoy the sequel to DUDE!. If you haven't read it, it's two clicks away._

Crutchy typed frantically on the computer. His hands could barely keep up with the ideas zooming through his head.

It may have been near three in the morning, and his typing may have been the only noise heard in the near silent (aside from the other Newsies snoring and mumbling in their sleep) lodging house. But finally, Crutchy could fulfill his dreams of being DICTATOR OF THE WORLD, all caps included.

Finally, typing the last letter, of the last word, of the last sentence, of the last paragraph, of the last page of two hundred and sixty seven pages filled with the various documents required for world domination, Crutchy breathed a sigh of relief.

After nearly a month of nothing but planning the take-over of the world with Jack, Mush, Race, Spot, Dave, Emo Blink, and two rather annoying Above Forces, Crutchy had finally finished.

He immediately saved the precious file and smiled evilly, knowing the world would be his in a matter of time.

Now wide-awake with all the excitement of finishing the start of his dream, Crutchy, like any normal person, decided to check his email.

He was immediately was saddened when his inbox had but one email, after not checking it for at least three weeks. Downtrodden by his lack of friends, Crutchy opened the email from Skittery, of all people.

**From: Skittery (antiherion1899hotmail .com)****  
****To: Crutchy (****supergimp1hotmail .com)  
****--  
00246010310010e491hrpooooooo  
crtlf4pp30197fra3589y3a495d6a4  
eeeeeeeee1rt9876542**

"What the hell...?" Crutchy whispered to the computer.

Then three things happened:  
1. The screen blacked out  
2. A message popped up stating: **System Failure. All Hardrive Memory Erased. HA.HA.HA.  
**3. Crutchy screamed like that cliché scream you hear in all the old horror movies, then passed out.

Good-bye world domination...


	38. Worship your Squirrel Overlords

_A/N: Hey guys…_

_First story in forever... forgive us for not updating :begs for forgiveness:. We hope to update more, but I don't want to get all your hopes up._

_Enjoy this loverly story brought to you by Dutchy (with help from Yummers)_

"I dub thee Sir Julio, in the name of Manhattan," Dutchy said, posing a surprisingly serious tone, "May you go forth and do great deeds, living up to your prestigious title."

"Dutchy," Specs asked, choosing his words carefully, "What are you doing?"

"Specs, Specs, Specs, isn't it obvious?" The look on Specs' face stated quite clearly that it was, in fact, _not_ obvious.

"I was knighting this tree." Dutchy said in an important tone.

"Ah," Specs nodded his head, "And why, pray tell, were you knighting this tree?"

Duchy leaned forward and said in a whisper, "So this tree could join me in my quest to infiltrate the Secret Society of the Squirrels. It's a very delicate operation, requiring the most elite warriors, and Sir Julio has proved himself worthy."

It was at this time Specs sincerely regretted this morning's decision to sell his papes in the park. As he backed away, he said in a high voice, "Good luck with that." Then he broke into a full out run.

He knew the Society of the Squirrels would want be furious if they found him fraternizing with the enemy.

_A/N II: Just to let you know Yummers (__passionate fire) is writing the most __**amazing**__story, so we are forcing you to read it (Title: Vices and Virtues)._


	39. Window Shopping

_A/N: Another one-sentence random fic from one of your favorite authors, Yummers!_

"Oh my God," Swifty exclaimed as he pressed his nose to the dirty glass. "Is that a yodeling pickle?"


	40. Brownie Boy Wonder

_A/N: This one is dedicated to our school's pep club. They, the brilliant people that they are, figured out that if you take the "e" out of "pirates" and mix up the letters a little bit, you get "rapist." Now, our mascots are, as you can guess, the pirates, and the pep club had each letter from "pirates" on a separate sheet of cardboard. So guess what they spelled to freak out the other team?_

_It was pretty funny, but we still lost._

Walter the Wonder Waiter hummed as he put the brownies on the counter to cool. He could only smile at the pleased looks on the multitude of customer's faces: Brownie Thursday was always a crowd pleaser.

He took a whiff of the chocolaty goodness, breathing in the sweet smell, when he suddenly noticed something odd about his brownies

They..

Were...

MOVING!

Now, Walter the Wonder Waiter wasn't really a wonder at many things. In fact, he was only good at two: Baking and waiter…ing.

To put it bluntly, Walter was a moron.

So as the brownies started to move, Walter's rarely-used brain came to the only thing that seemed logical to him:

"Aliens!" He cried.

"No, silly!" the brownies answered. "We're pirates! Argh!"

Walter the Wonder Waiter blinked.

A voice, (A voice that was much too Italian to ever sound like a pirate) said, "We'se commandeerin' your brownies!"

"...?" said Walter the Wonder Waiter. He looked down

And...

Then...

The…

Brownies...

Started…

To…

MOVE!!

(…again. But more this time, y'know?)

(….)

(Yummers likes over-dramatic dots!)

The baked goods suddenly shifted upwards, cracking into a v-shape. Walter the Wonder Waiter screamed as several miniature teenage boys magically popped out and began to push his beloved brownies away.

"NO! NO! NOT THE BROWNIES! ANYTHING BUT THE BROWNIES!" Walter cried desperately.

Walter didn't realize that he could pick up the brownies away from the miniature pirate-newsies. Instead, he displayed his not-so-bright intellect by flapping his arms and squawking like a chicken.

"Yes, the brownies," said the one with the eye patch.

"BWAHAHAHHAAHA!!" Cried the (evil) mini-pirate-newsies.

Walter stood helpless as the brownies inched away.

He listened to their cries of, "Avast!" and "ARRRG!" and the ever popular, "Swab the poop-deck!" (This was always followed by a chorus of laughter) until Walter finally decided to act.

He gently grabbed one of the mini pirates by the arm and held him up to his nose. The mini-pirate was wearing a red bandana and cowboy hat and had a wooden sword in one hand.

"Argh!" cried Jack (for that was who it was) "Let me go!"

"Ummm..." Walter seriously considered the offer, "No."

"Please?" Jack begged.

Walter looked into the miniaturized face of the boy. He looked uncannily like Batman, Walters's hero. Before he knew what he was doing (damn his idiocracy) He placed Jack softly on the counter-top

"Thanks!" Jack exclaimed, completely forgetting his pirate accent.

Then he (with the help of his newsie-pirate friends) grabbed the rest of the brownies and ran away.


End file.
